Into The Brown And Blue
by ZG Vallea
Summary: Fourth chapter's up now. Hope everyone enjoys this ^_^
1. Prologue - Sear White

**Prologue - Sear White**  
  
  
He dreamt, he was sure, for his eyes were closed, yet light seeped into his sight. No, penetrated. He knew this to be no ordinary dream light, but then, what? His eyes fluttered on the brink of opening, breaking out of the almost-dream, but he couldn't. The light began to burn, to hurt. Wincing, it felt as though he were being set on fire; maybe he was. Everything became so very dry. His throat ached for water; his skin felt close to peeling off. The intensity of the strange, white, dream light rose, higher and higher, until he fervently wished, prayed that it was only a dream. His skin melted away, exposing organs beating and pumping, all to different beats. Surely those burnt away, and then, the light, the fire, seared his bones, until all that was left was his thinking soul, and then--   
  
He opened his eyes, and blinked at the light that blinded him so. He brought up a hand to shield them, only vaguely surprised that he possessed a hand, much less the strength to move it. He dropped his hand and turned his head this way, then that way, then settled it up again. Suddenly the light cut off; no, was blocked, by something getting in the way of its path to his eyes. By someone. By a woman. A smiling woman.   
  
She laughed, and he sat up, feeling the ache of sleep in his body. It felt as if he slept for days, and he groaned with it. He had the feeling of such an old man getting up in the morning, feeling stiff and achy and somewhat grumpy. But the laughter, the laughing woman near him, melted these things away. All discomfort disappeared. He was rejuvenated. He was restored. He was alive.   
  
"You've been laying there for quite a while. I was wondering when you'd wake up."   
  
He turned his head to see the woman, now at his side, and, blinking again, smiled in return. He couldn't help himself; the smile came from getting one, and she... she seemed to love smiling. Long black hair framed that face with big brown eyes, so careless in expression, and she wore plain clothing, a white T-shirt tucked into jeans. Her bare feet wriggled their toes in the grass and her arms wrapped around her drawn-up knees, so when smiling at him, it seemed she tried to hide it a little.   
  
_Should I know this woman?_ he thought. He felt he should, but he couldn't place her. In fact, he couldn't place anything. Whenever he tried to focus on something before this moment, it slipped away. Thoughts like sand through his fingers, he asked, "Who are you? And where are we? Why am I here?"   
  
She regarded him a second, looking to measure something about him, then said, "I don't know."   
  
The blinking came back. "Which question does that answer?"   
  
She laughed, like always. "All of them. I don't know who I am, and I don't know where we are, and I don't know why you're here. I am myself, but I don't know what else to tell you. We're here in this place, but I don't know what else to tell you about that either. And everyone comes here at first, but usually they leave, but--"   
  
"But you don't know what else to tell me."   
  
She grinned. "That's right. I wish I could, because I think you have the right to know." The grin faded slightly. "No one really knows anything here, but it feels all right. It feels like nothing else matters, except being in this place. Do... do you understand what I mean?" The look she gave told him that she desperately wanted him to comprehend something she could not explain, could never explain, and, even if explained, could perhaps not comprehend herself.   
  
Though it made sense and did not at once, he slowly nodded. Maybe it was to please her, or maybe himself. "I can't remember anything before now. I... woke up here, right? Maybe... I was always here?"   
  
Her eyes seemed to echo the questions he asked. Then, it vanished with another smile.   
  
"I can't stay sad for long here. Isn't it nice, though? Nothing really concerns anyone, so it's not so bad. Don't you think so?"   
  
He agreed. A sense of peace kept washing over him as the pang of not remembering faded. He knew a word for this, he knew he did, but it would not come forth to him. Vaguely, he thought he heard more laughter, but it was not her voice. He asked her about this, and she answered with more smiles and laughter.   
  
"It's the children. You can't see them yet, but you will soon. They play here, and I watch over them. Everyone's so happy."   
  
For the first time he looked around. They sat on top of a hill that gave way to a great valley below, which had a large blue lake in the center. Off to the side was one tall tree, its branches stretching wide and long to create shade from the light. The valley too was spotted with trees like this one, and everything was very green. The sky shone bright blue, dotted with huge fluffy clouds occasionally.   
  
Maybe the word was perfect, and it fit, but it was not enough, he decided. What could it be?   
  
He stood up, and she stood as well.   
  
"If everyone goes away, where do they go?"   
  
She shook her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think they go into the valley, but maybe..."   
  
He felt something tugging at him, pulling. He suddenly felt lighter than air. He glanced at her and saw that her face was a mask of astonishment and fear.   
  
_Fear?_   
  
"No! You can't go! It's... it's not right!" She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't understand...!"   
  
He realized that he was slowly floating away, higher and higher into the air, and farther and farther away from the woman. It didn't feel right at all, but he didn't understand either. Why was this upsetting her? Why was he floating away at all? Nothing made sense in this place, but that place seemed to prevent things from making sense.   
  
He floated higher up; the woman turned away and buried her face in her hands. He closed his eyes. He didn't want to see her like this. It was too sad.   
  
The bright white light of his dream came again, searing everything away. He didn't even have time to be surprised that he had thought it a dream, for at that time, the white disappeared, and a blackness consumed him.   
  
When he woke up again, he vainly wished he knew nothing. 


	2. Chapter One - Degradation's Beginning

**Degradation's Beginning**  
  
  
Vash and Meryl ran as fast as they could to Knives's room, Vash ahead of Meryl marginally. His arm shot out and busted the door open, though there had been no real need; the door was already ajar, and now reverberated from the consequential run-in with the wall. He skid to a halt just beyond the door frame and looked around, Meryl coming up behind him. To his right was Milly, stiff as a board, against the wall, trying not to appear as startled and frightened as she was. On the floor beside her was broken glass and a puddle of water. To his left was Knives, sitting on the bed, panting, facing Milly and scowling. He had been resigned to slouch against the wall, but he still managed to convey a rather icy glare, for all his ruffled appearance. Indeed, he looked like an ornery bear who'd just been disturbed in the middle of winter hibernation.   
  
"What," Knives growled, taking the tone of said bear, "is the meaning of this?"   
  
Vash almost laughed, but he liked breathing. "I could ask you the same question."   
  
His twin turned his blue gaze on him. "I wake up in a strange room, in a strange bed, in strange clothes, and with this... _human,_ hovering over me, dressing my wounds, and then trying to shove water down my throat like a mother spoon-feeding a baby." He growled again. "I'll not have this whelp attend me further, Vash, and that is final! Do you hear me? I don't want either of your bitches near me!"   
  
Milly gulped, visibly shaken, though no wanting to feel so afraid. Meryl, in turn, growled back, and was most likely preparing to give Knives her own tongue-lashing when Vash spoke up.   
  
"Leave us." His voice was cold and brooked no argument; Milly scrambled out of the room, pulling Meryl along with her. Vash turned to close the door, and stopped. Meryl stood just outside, gazing up at him intensely and without fear. She knew that he had to take a hard stance with his brother, and expected nothing less; still, she wanted him to remember that she would support him through this difficult time, whatever way he needed. With that in mind, he stooped down and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Her eyes widened, and a blush rose upon her face, but she took it in stride. With a nod of her head, and a flash of a smile, she whirled and marched down the hallway, towing a gaping Milly along. Vash caught the taller of the two exclaiming, "Senpai!" as he closed the door, then turned.   
  
Now he stood alone with Knives, and fought down the urge to inflict his brother with a sever case of verbal abuse. But he had little chance for much, for as soon as he traded stony stares with the other, a low bubbling chuckle escaped Knives's lips, the corners of which curving upwards into a devilish smirk.   
  
"So that's the one. I should have suspected. After all, she looks so much like--"   
  
"Don't you dare say it!" Vash grated, the threat to wreak havoc crossing his face. He gritted his teeth, but said no more.   
  
Knives laughed again. "Why so fierce, brother? No need to be protective." His features smoothed and he waves a dismissive hand. "I'm no concerned with your wench; I want to know what you intend to do now, Vash."   
  
He ran his cool, calculating gaze over Vash, who almost shivered at the way he felt himself being measured and weighed. "Surely the people in whatever town we're now in know that Vash the Stampede is here, brother." Knives snickered. "'The Stampede.' That's truly funny. Whoever thought up such a nickname? Or did you give yourself that?" He tilted his head, his teeth glinting straight and white from behind his smile.   
  
"Even if they do, you still need to heal," Vash said, although he noted that Knives wouldn't be able to sit up if his injuries were aggravating him that much.   
  
But Knives snorted. "I'm not human, you know, and not like you. I don't let my body become festered with scars," he sneered. Yet a thin sheen of sweat covered his face. Vash wondered to the extent of his brother's capacity for pain. He knew that when he first shot Knives so many years ago, the pain had to have been quite a new experience; Knives had never take on so much suffering at once, and it had shocked him at first. And certainly anyone would be at least taken back by five bullet wounds at one time. But Vash also knew that Knives would never allow his body to scar, and would use all his strength to regenerate and remedy the damage done. Perhaps that lack of energy, and the alarm of seeing Milly there, was why he looked ill now.   
  
Something didn't quite fit, though... But the prickling of thought vanished when Knives groaned and slumped further against the wall. Vash, being the caring person he was, helped his brother to lay down properly.   
  
Knives glared at him, wild-eyed. "You should leave them. Or kill them. They'll keep poisoning you, Vash! I'm the only one that can cleanse you of it..."   
  
Obviously exhausted, he tapered off. All Vash said in response was, "I'll check up on you later. Just get some sleep now."   
  
He left Knives laying back down, staring at the closed door. Knives hated having to rely on his brother, but a part of him enjoyed the attention he was getting. It was something, he admitted...   
  
But he squeezed his eyes shut; he could not be weak, not for a second. Not even for Vash... because Vash needed him. Yes. Knives had to take care to rest, for it was too soon to act. If he tried something in his limited state now, he'd not get very far. Even lashing out at that big girl took no small effort.   
  
But that other girl bothered him as well. She looked too much like that other wench of his, the one he was so enthralled with.   
  
The one in his dreams.   
  
_His or yours?_   
  
Knives drew in a ragged breath, then whispered, "_I don't dream._"   
  
But as he couldn't wall off his mind for sleep, he was forced to slumber again without protection from dreams.


	3. Chapter Two - Planning to Keep Up

**Planning to Keep Up**  
  
  
"Senpai!" Milly gaped down at her superior as they hurried along the hall to the kitchen. Meryl could almost hear the questions that would be fired at her as fast as a derringer bullet. What happened in his room? Is everything okay? You two made up, right? So are you two together? Senpai, why are you smiling like an idiot?   
  
Perhaps not that last question, but knowing Milly, it could very well be voiced.   
  
They sat at the table in the kitchen in the seats they'd designated their own over the past few days; Milly and Vash sat opposite each other with Meryl in-between, facing an empty chair. Or the chair that would have Knives, if he were healthy enough to join them, and civil. Mostly civil. Meryl propped her chin up with her hand, elbow on the table, and stared at Milly, waiting for her interrogation.   
  
"I'm really happy for you and Vash-san," she said, smiling. "I'm glad you two worked things out. So then, I suppose we should pack our things and rent a car as soon as possible, because I'm sure Vash-san will want to move when Knives-san is ready."   
  
Meryl stared further; this wasn't what she expected, but it would do. "Ah, yes Milly, I suppose that's a good plan." She was about to stand up when she thought of something else. "You know, you don't have to be afraid of Knives-san. He's not that tough, for all his 'power.' He's helpless right now; he's too weak to do anything, so don't worry about it, okay?"   
  
Milly nodded eagerly. "I won't, Senpai!" As soon as the agreement was reached, Meryl stood and went to her room, leaving Milly at the table.   
  
Through the window over the sink, the sun could be seen creeping slowly along its path upon the sky, moving closer to midday. Puffy white clouds drifted over the blue stretch high above a slight breeze that tussled and moved the first thin layer of dust and sand upon the earth. Distant chimes barely tinkled with the wind. Truly, it was a beautiful day.   
  
Milly, however, took no notice of these things; instead, she stared at her hands laced together neatly in front of her on the table.   
  
_Am I afraid?_ She did not shake or tremble, but she knew those sensations came when she approached that man. Everything associated with fear came alive in her when his eyes shot open and stared at her with icy eyes. Something inside her mind clicked at that moment, like a truth unfolding for the first time. Just a small brush of something mentally external, yet it carried with it a vast array of emotions, images, and promises.   
  
_A promise?_ She shook her head. Only fear of a man that Vash-san would take care of, but cautiously. Very cautiously.   
  
"I'm just being silly," Milly said aloud, and smiled. She knew her penchant for silliness too; she now knew it was time to put away and not worry so much.   
  
But still, something bothered her... what?   
  
"Ah!" She remembered.   
  
"It's time for lunch!"   
  
  
  
Author's Note: Ahhh, a short second chapter. Well, short for me, I suppose... or something. But anyway, I wanted to focus on Milly, as she didn't get what I would deem "appropriate air-time." Yes, she's a somewhat minor character... but no longer! Not in this fic, at least. (Gosh, can I pack anymore foreshadowing in here?)  
  
Another thing is, I have to keep going back to check what I wrote, to make sure I'm still making things continuous. I don't want to mess up my own continuity, you know? But I figure things are going to get screwed around a little here, but I'm trying my best. Trying not to go overboard on the blossoming V+M, trying not to make contradictory remarks that are only used to cover up what mistakes I make... And most of all, just trying to keep this idea alive @.@ The general layout for this entire work is months old, but hopefully, I'll see it through to the end ^_^v And work faster on the next chapter @.@; 


	4. Chapter Three - Aiming To Wound

**Aiming To Wound**  
  
  
What a tiring time. Meryl definitely needed a shower after all she'd been through. She had spent all night alternately crying, bitching, and typing, all because of that stupid, lame excuse for a man, and _then_ she had to put up with his psycho brother messing with her friend! Oh, okay, Meryl relented; she didn't have to cry, bitch, or type for Vash. But said psycho brother was bound to get on her nerves more than once. Really.   
  
Her grip on the robe she picked up tightened fiercely. Her whitening knuckles began to blend in with the soft fabric. _Who the hell does he think he is? He's no more special than any of us "mere humans!"_   
  
Ahhh, but this could be no time to get angry; she had to keep her wits about her, for her sake, and Milly's, and Vash's. And stupid Knives's too, although she wouldn't have minded pushing him off the edge of a nice, steep cliff. Watching him scream all the way down to his painful, rocky death below... Sweet, sweet revenge. Meryl graciously smiled at this.   
  
She made quick work of her clothes and donned the robe, then headed to the bathroom. The sandsteamer event seemed so far away... probably because it was, though. More than two years had gone by so far. So fast! Turning on the water, Meryl thought back to the first bullet Vash ever fired in her presence, at Mr. Cliff's house. Straight into her heart, despite all her protests to the contrary. All his boisterous, mouthy showmanship had been more than a nuisance back then, and it was certainly no different now! Rationally, it shouldn't have affected her so, and yet... BANG! He shot with a smile, never knowing where he aimed. When he looked up to see her more than exaggerated expression, he frowned, not knowing what he had done or why it had happened. He could only wonder, although briefly, if some of his purported extravagant gunman flair had somehow worked. But not on this apparently straight-laced, hardworking insurance woman, Meryl Stryfe; not her.   
  
Never her.   
  
She turned the knobs the other way to off, for whoever had just knocked on the door would surely take up more than a bit of her time. Grumbling internally, she knew it was most likely him, the fool, come to disturb her further. It'd be just like him, showing up at such a time!   
  
She twisted the doorknob and opened the door. Sure enough, it was him. Appearing straight and tall before her in a man's everyday wear, looking down upon her with the same mercurial blue-green eyes, he stood. And she looked back up at him in her fluffy robe, with steady violet eyes that questioned everything she saw. All she saw now was him.   
  
Another memory came up from the depths just then; she remembered the way they two stared at each similarly for the first time, he with a towel over his head and she acceptably worried about his well-being. Her job. Yet more than petty occupation, Meryl had grown to care for her charge. Nowhere in her contract with Bernardelli did it state that she had to make friends with those involved in every case she was sent out on. And any other time, the cases didn't involve following a nigh-homicidal lunatic halfway across the world.   
  
So he wasn't that deranged. He turned out to be a rather nice, if goofy fellow who always solved the problems that he or others got into, and without taking a life. Except for the one faltering moment that made him all the more human, he protected more than he harmed (if you didn't count property damage).   
  
That first time seeing Vash so open and exposed with his scars in plain sight had made her pause, and really reconsider who she thought this man was. He couldn't be a mere bumbling fool whose scars had come about as a result of his supposed blundering. As more days passed to allow her to see what sort of person he was, she came to realize the deliberate way he handled everything. His scars were not from mistakes, but rather from the choices he had to make. A piece of his skin, or someone's life? With those sort of options, it was easy to see the result.   
  
She felt pride for him, and his scars.   
  
The moment stretched on. He had turned the somber situation into one of comedy by acting embarrassed over his strange revelation. Though he was embarrassed, as he thought his body would only scare off the girls, she had to strongly disagree with him there. Any girl in her right mind should understand why he got those scars, and be proud of him like she was, and...   
  
Well, her protestations, though not all of them vocal, only increased the embarrassment. She wished she could have told him, could have explained without making things so incredibly awkward...   
  
"We should make a habit of meeting each other before and after showering."   
  
Meryl blinked. What? Then she got angry. Of all the--!   
  
"What do you want?" she asked irritably.   
  
He smiled gently. Vash knew better than to argue with her.   
  
"I just wanted to talk to you. May I come in?" But he was already moving past her into the room, so she just let him go by then shut the door. He looked around a moment, then chose to sit on the bed, a move she wouldn't have considered odd had she not been dressed in just a robe.   
  
_What are you thinking, Meryl? Get a hold of yourself, woman, it's just Vash! It's not like he's trying to... to..._ Before she made herself blush, she stopped thinking about it and said,"You wanted to talk to me about something?"   
  
He nodded. "Milly told me you approved of moving everyone to another town. She's making lunch now, by the way." He smiled to lighten the mood a bit, noticing how Meryl seemed a bit tense.   
  
"It's still a good idea, you know; I don't know how long these folks will stand having us around." _Trying to make me feel better, hmm? I'll show him, Mister "I Prance Around In Pants And A Towel!"_ Meryl deigned to take a seat beside Vash, a move that would no doubt have sent his precious twin into conniptions.   
  
_I'd love to see that too!_   
  
"So it's all right with you, Vash-san?"   
  
He nodded again. "You're right; I think we might soon wear out our welcome." Though true be told, they both knew it had already worn out ever since Vash's identity became public knowledge in town. The townsfolk kept from mobbing again out of fear that the terrible Diablo would turn his icy blue stare upon them and decide their time was up.   
  
_Vash the Stampede murders anyone and everyone he sees, women and children even. Didn't you know that? Better run, I see him coming... What fools._   
  
Meryl smiled at him to keep such dark thoughts from her face, and his knowledge. Perhaps it was his lesson to her, that a smile could keep anything at bay; perhaps she already knew it, but she'd rather think of it as his lesson than admit she covered things up with a mask from the beginning. It was probably because his style was more effective.   
  
_Damn it! What am you doing? He's started being truthful, and you want to mess that up by glossing things over? Get a clue, Meryl!_   
  
"Well then! It looks like I'll have to be packing up my things after all." She made to stand, but stopped when she felt his warm palm pressing against her cheek softly. She looked from the corner of her eye at it; something so inviting, yet completely foreign, did not belong this near to her. He had no right, no privilege... And what's more, he'd not asked, and therefore could not be entitled to...   
  
"Thank you." With that said, Vash leaned forward and kissed her other cheek. Her mouth might have worked to speak had she not been so surprised.   
  
He leaned back. He smiled, also gently, in his endearingly honest and open manner.   
  
She blinked. She spoke.   
  
"We already said our thank yous, Vash-san. There's no need for that."   
  
"No. But I could anyway."   
  
He rose and left her to sit upon her bed in her white fluffy robe with just a tad bit of shock evident on her face. But just a bit.   
  
In the shower, under the fast rain of hot, rejuvenating water, Meryl thought, _What is he getting at? This morning I admitted my feelings for him, and he accepted it. He said he couldn't return the same, but I expected as much. Really, what did you think you'd get from him?_   
  
She turned the water off, and stepped out. She reached for a towel and dried herself. _Then he kisses you on the cheek in front of Milly, and Knives... He's trying to prove a point to him. His brother cannot be the one who makes his decisions; Vash's life and Knives's life are separate though joined through their bond.   
  
Some bond. What a pair of siblings._   
  
She donned black slacks and a white blouse, her clothes plain yet functional, just the way she liked it. _But now this kiss on the cheek. He says he can't say the words you've told him, yet twice he's been forward. Well, not completely forward, but...   
  
But what if it leads to that?_   
  
Meryl paused. _He wouldn't do that. He's too much of a prude for that._ But she rolled her eyes. _Pot calling the kettle black.   
  
No, Vash wouldn't. He's not ready for anything like that, I'm sure of it._   
  
"I'm sure." And with that said, Meryl walked out with that same air of confidence that buoyed her for the rest of the day. 


	5. Chapter Four - Work To Do

**Work To Do**  
  
  
__

Why? Why was he here? In fact, where was here anyway? Oh, but did it matter? Did anything? So many questions turned over and over in his mind, endlessly persistent and bothersome. He clutched at his head; it hurt so much. Had he any food in his stomach, it might have been dredged up at one point or another, so he was grateful for that. It didn't stop him from feeling as though he should try, however. 

His wounds hurt too. He remembered that, and everything else. Well, perhaps not everything. He remembered being wounded, then... something hazy. Must have been the injuries doing that. Haziness... walking? Standing? Kneeling, laying down... what? 

He remembered the woman. The woman and her precious innocence. Not like she could help it, of course; it was a matter of being in a place where it was simply easier things be forgotten. 

So he didn't remember everything. He remembered what was before the haziness, the woman, this place. And damn it all, where was this place? 

He dropped his hands from his head only to hug himself tightly. If he curled into a ball in that position, maybe his stomach would stop wanting to leave him. 

He looked around for the millionth time. Same as before: an endless expanse of sand with the two blasted suns higher than high in a brilliant, cloudless sky. Yet the heat dared not to touch him; why? 

Another why among the other questions of why, why, why, looping, spinning, over and over in his mind. A dream. It must all be a dream, yes, with reality just on the other side. This was a fabrication; it must be shattered. Yes. 

How? 

A dream a dream a dream a dream he felt like he was going to be stuck forever in this dream! He just wanted a way out, any way out, he didn't care, this was getting too much for him, a dream, a dream! 

I want out,_ he thought. _I want to be rid of this place, gone from here, I don't care how! Just get me out! Out! OUT!

He fell to his side, still embracing his middle. Out would be good; if he could go back in time... He had to concentrate. Concentrate what held him in that past. 

He squeezed his eyes shut. A man. Blonde. Tall, as tall as him. Green eyes. Vash. He was prominent, so recognizable; why didn't he see him before? 

A woman, but not the woman he saw earlier. If it was earlier. No; he could still reckon events as they happened, linearly, in a line, a line, a dream... A woman. 

She suddenly flared into clear view, and he remembered again. 

Knives's eyes snapped open. He drew in a sharp breath and exhaled slowly, reminding himself that what he awoke from was merely a dream. Calm was needed now, not haste; the faster one went, the more likely one would be susceptible to sloppy maneuvering. Precision would only come to him with slow, deliberate pacing. What's more, he wouldn't want to be caught unaware... 

He sat up and glanced around. The last time he came to, he'd had that meddling human girl around. She had seen him in a moment of panic, and that just wouldn't do. He gave her a little lesson, one he suspected she wouldn't forget any time soon. The thought made him smile, but it was a short thing. He now had work to do. 

So. His affairs were spilling over into his dreams, were they? He gathered as much when he had that first dream... how long ago? He looked at the window and saw it to be nighttime; scant moonlight found its way into the room, but he didn't care for it. 'Light' and 'dark' were just two ends of the visual perception spectrum, so what difference did it make to him? None; what his eyes could not do, his other senses would pick up. 

Tapping his fingers against his thigh, he found himself a bit irritated. He would have liked to see his brother then, but the idiot was mostly likely asleep. _Fool. Isn't he supposed to attend poor, pitiful, wounded Knives? He should at least be dozing in here._

But he chuckled. Vash's time was so divided these days, wasn't it? One moment he'd be battling the townspeople that wanted to drive him away, the next he'd be in here worrying if Knives was going to wake up and start killing everyone in sight... _Oh, and let's not forget the very lovely Meryl Stryfe, the woman that distracts almost as much as our dearly departed 'mother.'_

Knives smirked, then laughed. He knew the reason for Vash's preoccupation, and should have been incredibly infuriated. Yet, he was not. He knew what the end result would be; he knew how things would inevitably go. 

_I'm sure you're a fine woman, Ms. Stryfe, but you will do well to serve me instead of my sentimental brother._

But now was not the time to dwell on that particular notion. Right now, Knives needed to work, and use some of that precision he was so valued. So upon closing his eyes, he did just that. 


End file.
